


We Get Found in Unlikely Places

by AuroraWest



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Exes, Fluff, Insecure Loki (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Post-Canon, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:40:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24298252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraWest/pseuds/AuroraWest
Summary: Stephen would really,reallylike it if Loki and Christine could be friends.The problem is, Christine isn't all that receptive to the idea of being friends with the alien who invaded New York City.
Relationships: Christine Palmer & Stephen Strange, Loki & Christine Palmer, Loki/Stephen Strange
Comments: 6
Kudos: 104
Collections: Rare Pairs Events





	We Get Found in Unlikely Places

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Marvel Rare Pairs Prompt Meme 2020](https://rarepairsevents.tumblr.com/), prompt #178.
> 
> Prompt #178: Stephen has to defend Loki against doubters/sceptics/ill-wishers (could be The Avengers or Wong/MoMA or Christine) i.e. anybody who is against their love! Could be someone accusing Loki of casting a love spell, using the Mind Stone, whatever. Bonus points if Thor (or Levi!) comes to Loki’s defense too!

“Hi,” Stephen said, sticking his head through the portal into Christine Palmer’s office.

The only indication that he’d startled her was a slight tension in her shoulders and the way her fingers stuttered over her keyboard. Looking up at him, she said, “You know, you could come through the door like a normal person.”

“Yeah, but where would the fun be in that?” Stephen asked, giving her a wry smile. She sighed. Yep. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Christine—but that was like, Exhibit A for why they hadn’t worked out. Well, that and the fact that he’d been an unmitigated asshole when they’d been together, but, you know.

She pursed her lips, clearly trying to hide a smile. “You’re not canceling on me, are you?”

“No, that’s why I’m here. Do you mind if I bring someone to dinner tonight?”

Pushing her laptop across the desk and away from her, she leaned back and said, “Stephen, you know you’ve had an open invitation to bring someone for ten years.”

“Yeah, yeah, you say that, but seeing as how I never do, I figured I’d ask.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Anyway, thanks, I’ll see you tonight—”

“Wait, wait!” Christine said, flinging out a hand, though she stopped short of sticking it in the portal to grab him. He paused, his head still sticking out into her office in Metro-General, while the rest of his body stood in the Sanctum. It was kind of an awkward position. “Can I ask who you’re bringing?” she said, raising her eyebrows.

Stephen smiled a little. Honestly? He was shocked he kept it so subdued. It was really hard to tamp down on these particular feelings. “Uhh.” Cocking his head at her, he said, “My boyfriend.”

“Oh my god.” She slammed her laptop shut and stood up. “Oh my _god_. Stephen! You have a boyfriend? This is great! I had no idea you were dating again!”

“I wasn’t really aware I’d stopped.”

She ignored his furrowed brow and gave him an _oh, really?_ look. “Okay, sure, you just haven’t had a date in what, fifteen years?”

Straightening his robe, he said, “I got Snapped, you can’t count five of those years.”

“Oh, only a decade then.” With a huge, delighted smile, she said, “Could you stop hanging through that portal and let me give you a hug?” With a chuckle, Stephen stepped into the office, and she threw her arms around him, asking, “Is it serious? Wait, what am I saying—you wouldn’t even be telling me if it wasn’t serious.”

Stephen thought of the way he’d left said boyfriend in the Sanctum’s library, black hair spread out around him as he laid on his back on a bench, legs kicked up in the air, while he read an alchemical treatise from the 14 th century. One arm draped over his stomach, fingers dangling loosely against his side. The tiny furrow between his eyebrows, his blue eyes alight with concentration and curiosity. The graceful arc of his leg, from his ankle to his toe. It was the kind of picture that left Stephen unable to decide if he should get down on his knees and worship this god—or if he should drop him through a portal to his bedroom so they could go at it up against the wall.

“Pretty serious,” he said mildly.

Releasing him, she said, “That’s _great_ news, seriously. Except you’re being mysterious on purpose. Tell me something about him. How did you meet? Wait.” She put a hand over her mouth. “He’s not in the cult, is he? It’s not Wong? I mean, if it _is_ Wong, that’s fine, you two are cute together—”

Laughing, Stephen said, “No. He’s not in the cult, so that precludes Wong. I think Wong would be insulted at the idea, actually. I’ll tell him you think we make a cute couple, though. He’ll love that.”

Christine made a face. “Please don’t. You’re right, he probably _would_ be insulted, which would be totally fair.”

“Ouch.”

With a smile, Christine said, “So if he’s not in the cult, how did you meet? I didn’t think you went out much, and the only work people you know are Avengers, I guess…oh my god.” Something occurred to her. “If you’re dating an Avenger I probably _will_ fangirl, just to warn you.”

“Not… _exactly_ an Avenger,” Stephen said.

“Oh my god.”

Stephen could tell she was running through the list of single male Avengers in her mind. “Yeah, why don’t I just put you out of your misery. It’s Loki.”

The smile froze on her face. “What?” she asked, her tone very at odds with her expression. “Loki as in…the Loki who attacked New York?”

“I mean, it’s not a common name,” Stephen said.

She no longer looked happy for him, which wasn’t exactly shocking. She’d been in the ER that day in 2012 when Loki had brought the Chitauri army to Earth. “I don’t understand,” she said. “He’s… _Loki._ He’s not a good person.” She shook her head slowly, still staring at him like she was hoping she hadn’t heard right, or that he’d somehow misspoken. “What would you see in someone like that?”

“Legs for days, chiseled pecs, and a great ass? Cut glass accent, too, even if he’s not actually English.”

“Stephen.”

He exhaled slowly. “So you’re not as thrilled for me anymore, I’m guessing.”

Trap question. Another reason they hadn’t worked out, actually.

And she knew it. Her mouth opened, then closed. Christine hadn’t been Snapped. When he’d found her after getting back, after the Battle of Earth, she’d thrown her arms around him and held on tight. She’d gotten married in the intervening years; he’d resisted making a joke about the dating pool being a lot shallower. Since then, they’d had a standing dinner date, usually at her apartment in Brooklyn. Stephen liked her husband. His name was Paul. He was from Milwaukee. He was nothing like Stephen, and that was definitely for the best.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked away and said, “I’m just…surprised.”

“C’mon, I’ve always had a thing for English guys.”

The look she gave him silenced him. Soberly, Stephen said, “People change, Christine.”

“Are you talking about yourself?” she asked, her voice rising in pitch. “Because the Stephen Strange I know may have been an arrogant jerk at one point, but he wouldn’t let himself get close to anyone who’s responsible for the deaths of seventy-four people and a _literal_ alien invasion.”

Wincing, Stephen said, “Yeah. I know. He’s got a past.”

“A _past?_ ” She gave him an incredulous look. “I knew he was living on Earth and that no one ever brought any kind of charges against him, but _god_.” Her expression turned from incredulity to suspicion. “Did you have something to do with that?”

He met her eyes. “I may have vouched for him when the subject came up. But so did New Asgard and Bruce Banner. When you’ve got most of the original Avengers on your side, that’s worth something.”

“Because the others are _dead_ ,” Christine shot back.

“Well—yeah.”

She closed her eyes and drew in a deep, slow breath. “Just when I think you can’t possibly shock me any more, you manage to find a way.”

Putting a hand on her shoulder, Stephen said, “If you don’t want to do dinner, I get it. But if you can, I’d ask you to give him a chance.”

With another steadying breath, she opened her eyes and studied him. “Oh my god,” she said, sounding horrified. “You’re in love with him.”

“I _did_ say it was pretty serious.”

She laughed. There was something a bit wild about it. “This is unreal. I mean, really, _seriously_ unreal.”

His expression remained serious. “I know it sounds crazy. Believe me, there was a time when I didn’t get it, either. But he’s more than the alien who attacked New York. He’s—” Stephen wasn’t going to spill Loki’s secrets or share what he’d been through. That wasn’t his place. “He makes me really happy,” Stephen said instead. “And we’ve been through a lot together. I trust him.”

Christine still looked both appalled and shocked, but maybe the former was fading. Well, a little. Or maybe that was wishful thinking. “You trust him,” she repeated.

“With my life. And I’d trust him with anyone else’s, too.” Loki would certainly mock him if he heard this, but it was the truth. Though he might pretend to consider otherwise, Loki would do the right thing. Stephen had seen it time and again now. At first the considering had been real, partly at least, but it had grown into an act. And that was fine. If Loki wanted to pretend he only did the right thing because other people (Thor) expected him to, he was free to tell himself whatever he wanted.

She put the heel of her hand to her forehead and breathed out slowly. “The cult was a big stretch, but…I guess if I can go along with you on that…” She pressed her lips together, then said, “I’ll give him a chance. Only because if you care about him, there must be something good there.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Seriously. I know it’s a lot to take in.”

Smiling wryly, she said, “That’s for sure. So.” She raised her eyebrows, looking like she wasn’t quite sure what she’d agreed to. “Does he like fesenjan?”

* * *

“Fesenjan,” Loki repeated. “I like the word. What is it?”

“It’s a stew. Persian. It’s good, you’ll like it. It’s an old family recipe of Christine’s husband.” Stephen opened a drawer, his wrists and backs of his hands aching as he did so, and rifled through the clothes there, looking for a shirt to put on. Everything was old and faded, and normally it wouldn’t matter to him, but of course Loki had pulled what appeared to be a designer suit out of his pocket dimension, and now Stephen was feeling a bit of sartorial pressure. He couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d bought new clothes. Occasionally a three pack of Hanes t-shirts appeared in his room, which presumably was a direct result of Wong feeling like he needed to supply a decent change of clothes for him if he wasn’t going to do it himself. He wasn’t wrong.

But Loki definitely had a thing for looking good. He was stretched out on the bed, hands behind his head, like he owned the place. Instead of his usual black on black on black, he’d opted for a dark green dress shirt with black slacks. Stephen had already told him he didn’t need to wear a tie, to which Loki had sniffed, “I’m aware I don’t _need_ to.”

The tie, maybe obviously, was black, too.

Well, he’d have to wear something light, because everything dark was several shades lighter than it was supposed to be. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to be washing everything with hot water. Grabbing a white t-shirt, he pushed the drawer closed and turned around. Loki was staring at him, an interest and a hunger in his eyes that Stephen, forty-eight years old and with hands he couldn’t even write his name with, had doubted he’d ever see directed at him again. The first time he’d taken his clothes off in front of Loki, he’d been really glad that he’d made an attempt over the years to stay in shape. Nothing quite like having a god look at you like you were the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

When Loki’s tongue poked out to wet his lips, Stephen chuckled, pulled the shirt over his head, and said, “Okay, settle down, Odinson.”

Loki laughed and crossed one ankle over the other. “I’ve never had Persian food,” he said, returning to the previous—and probably safer—subject. “Tønsberg isn’t exactly known for it.”

“Well, don’t worry. We’ll get you a culinary education.”

“Now that I’m sleeping with you, you mean?” Loki asked, raising a lazy eyebrow. “Here at the center of the world?”

“New York, New York, the city so nice, they named it twice,” Stephen said, smiling sardonically.

Grudgingly, Loki said, “I can see why you like it here. There’s something so…” He pondered this for a moment. “Something so quintessentially _human_ about it.”

Stephen ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll take your word for it. I’ve been a lot of other places, but I’ve never wanted to live anywhere else.”

“There’s no accounting for taste,” Loki said, though his mouth twitched with laughter, so Stephen just chuckled and rolled his eyes. In answer, a grin flickered across Loki’s face. Sitting up, Loki said, “Honestly, I think it’s seduced me. Anyplace this chaotic was bound to eventually.”

Glancing at his face in the mirror to make sure he didn’t need to shave, Stephen said, “Well, you can only resist us humans for so long.”

Loki met his eyes in the mirror. “Some of you are more…persuasive than others.”

“I’ll take the compliment,” Stephen said. “Are you ready, by the way? You’re doing a lot of lounging and not much getting dressed.”

Gesturing to himself, Loki said, “Isn’t this enough? Though—I thought I might wear the horns.” This last part was added musingly. Stephen shot a look at him and a smile pulled at Loki’s mouth. “No? But they make me look dramatic and dashing.”

“It’s dinner in a three bedroom brownstone. You don’t need to be _too_ dramatic,” Stephen said, pulling a cardigan out of the closet.

There was a noise from behind him and he turned to see Loki looking as though he was struggling to eat something extremely bitter. “What is _that?_ ” he asked. “Are you wearing that?”

Slipping the cardigan on over his t-shirt, Stephen said, “Yeah. Why?”

Loki just sighed. “I suppose I can’t pretend that you don’t make it look good, but that’s only because you make everything look good.”

“Oh,” Stephen said. “I get it. This isn’t fashionable enough for you?”

Loki’s smile twitched wider. It was a real struggle not to walk over to the bed, sit down next to him, and start kissing him.

“I _did_ say you make everything look good,” Loki replied, as though this hadn’t been a back-handed compliment.

“Uh huh.” Stephen didn’t even bother with the buttons. Undoing the fastenings on Loki’s clothes was one thing, but he didn’t have the dexterity in his fingers to do up buttons anymore, and he didn’t care about it enough to do it with magic.

With a small huff of breath, Loki swung his legs off the bed, his movement languid and graceful as he crossed the room. When he reached Stephen, he grabbed the cardigan and closed the buttons most of the way up. “At least wear it this way,” he said. No comment on anything else. “It looks better.” His expression grew faraway as he played with one of the buttons. “I’m not sure what you expect from me tonight, Stephen.”

“I don’t expect anything.”

“Mm.” Loki’s fingers twisted at the button and he flicked his gaze up to meet Stephen’s. “I don’t think that’s true. You never talk about anyone from your old life, let alone socialize with them. Doctor Palmer is important to you. You obviously want her to like me.”

Hesitating, Stephen said, “That’s not so crazy, is it?”

“No. But if she’s already predisposed not to, whether I wear my horns or not isn’t going to change her opinion.”

Stephen raised a hand and covered Loki’s, hating the trembling and weakness that kept him from squeezing Loki’s fingers as hard as he wanted to. “I’m not asking you to pretend to be someone you’re not, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

His eyes drifting down again, locking on their joined hands, Loki said, “Perhaps you should. In fact, I can literally accompany you as someone else. Or—” He transformed into a woman and suddenly Stephen was looking down at her, though not by much. “—I could be myself, but not a version anyone would recognize.”

“If you want to go like this, go like this,” Stephen said. He hadn’t seen Loki as a woman many times and it was hard not to get distracted by the differences and similarities between Loki’s forms. Slender in the same rangy way. A sharper, more pointed face, longer hair, slightly fuller lips and longer eyelashes. Same blue eyes, glinting with intelligence, humor, and mischief, and baring more of their owner’s secrets than she wanted you to see. If you didn’t know Loki could change forms, you wouldn’t think they were the same person. If you did, it was impossible not to see it. She still looked amazing in a suit, that was for sure.

Loki smiled, though she was still looking at their joined hands. “You’re very good at not being surprised by the vagaries of being close to me.”

“That feels like a prerequisite for _being_ close to you,” Stephen said. “I’m not trying to score points, Odinso—er, Odinsdottir, I guess?”

With a laugh, Loki turned back into a man. “No?”

“I just want you to be yourself. Who do you think I fell in love with?”

Loki looked up sharply, a gaping, aching vulnerability opening his face for just a second. “Honestly Strange,” he said, “I ask myself that question every day.”

With a snort, Stephen kissed Loki softly. In response, Loki’s hands cupped Stephen’s face as he caught Stephen’s lips in his and returned the kiss. He was more insistent than Stephen, but then, he often was. Funny that between the two of them, the one who had much longer to live was the one who didn’t want to do anything slowly. Or maybe it was because he knew exactly how little time Stephen had in comparison.

Kind of depressing. There would be a time to think about this, but it wasn’t now. Now, unfortunately, he had to think about how he needed to _not_ slide his hands all the way down Loki’s body to his ass, because while interdimensional portals really cut down on commuting time, he’d kind of built that assumption into the schedule. They were supposed to be at Christine’s in five minutes and that meant there wasn’t time for this to go any further.

Loki, as always, didn’t care about little things like ‘punctuality’ and ‘not having sex minutes before showing up for a dinner invitation.’ His fingers hooked into Stephen’s jeans and popped the button open, and Stephen broke the kiss and stepped back, both because, really, they didn’t have time for this, and because the shock of Loki’s freezing fingers always made him jump. Maybe he’d get used to them someday. “We’re going to have to take a raincheck on that,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

With a long-suffering sigh, Loki said, “Fine. But you owe me.”

As Loki grabbed his jacket and slipped it on, Stephen shot him a crooked smile, winked, and fit his sling ring over his fingers. “Now _that_ is a debt I’m happy to pay back.”

It would give them something to look forward to in case this dinner didn’t go well. Despite Stephen’s cheerful attitude, he was concerned—justifiably—that it wasn’t going to. But he didn’t let that on as he opened a portal for the two of them to step through, bringing them from Stephen’s bedroom to the front stoop of Christine’s Park Slope brownstone.

Loki glanced up and down the street, an approving look on his face. He _would_ like Park Slope. It was kind of a given that he had expensive tastes. Hazard of dating a prince, Stephen guessed. Not that it seemed to be an issue. Loki was well aware that Stephen’s only income was a stipend from Kamar-Taj, and while Kamar-Taj wasn’t stingy, it certainly wasn’t enough to support a lavish lifestyle. Both of them had seen their fortunes fall drastically in the past twenty years, though Loki probably had Stephen beat for sheer drama. Stephen had just blown through all his money; Loki’s had literally been destroyed in the apocalypse.

It hadn’t seemed to matter so far, though. What Loki seemed to want was _him_ , pure and simple. Well, maybe not pure. And ‘simple’ didn’t really apply to anything Loki did. But Loki didn’t seem resentful of the fact that at one time, Stephen had had money and prestige, but that he’d squandered all of it. He seemed happy, so far, to eat takeout instead of being taken out, to stream movies instead of going to see one, to take walks instead of doing whatever the trendy, expensive thing was to do. Did people still like escape rooms? Loki would probably be great at an escape room.

No doubt it helped that with his sling ring, they could go anywhere instantly. Stephen could show Loki the world, literally. He could show him the multiverse.

He glanced at Loki out of the corner of his eye. If the opportunity ever presented itself for both of them to take a vacation at the same time, he was pretty sure he could come up with a few places that would impress even his jaded, well-traveled, alien boyfriend.

As they walked up the steps, a bottle appeared in Loki’s hands. Stephen snorted and asked, “Where did that come from?”

“Where do you think?” Loki asked, smirking. “I always keep a supply of alcohol in my pocket dimension. You never know when you might need a gift. It’s very bad manners to attend a dinner invite and _not_ bring something.”

“You’re a constant source of surprise.” Stephen slipped an arm around Loki’s waist and kissed his cheek. The fact that he was doing it, this simple thing that everyone in relationships did, with _Loki_ , sent a bolt of disbelief and incandescent joy through him. After the years— _years_ —that he’d spent thinking about him, about what a bad idea it was to have a crush on the God of Mischief, about how the _last_ thing he should be devoting energy to was pursuing him; all the fantasies he’d allowed to play out in his mind while he told himself that it was the farthest it would go, all the nights he’d thought about slowly undressing Loki, running his hands over his body, kissing every inch of it, taking his time and making Loki moan his name; every time in the past decade that he’d run into Loki somewhere and made him laugh or laughed himself at Loki’s biting wit and thought _I could do this forever_ —after all of that, it felt unreal to actually be at his side, one hand on his hip, while his lips brushed Loki’s face.

Loki leaned into him and let out a soft sigh. One thing Stephen had learned in the month and a half they’d been together—Loki hated PDA. Maybe ‘learned’ wasn’t the right word. He’d assumed Loki hated PDA and this had been confirmed to him by the fact that if they went out in public together, Loki kept a chaste distance from him. The fact that he’d just allowed his entire side to press against Stephen’s was practically a public make-out for him.

“I _aspire_ to be a constant source of surprise,” Loki replied, a grin flashing over his face.

From the other side of the door came the sound of footsteps rattling down stairs. The door swung open and there was Christine, looking like she was trying really hard not to look nervous. “Hi,” she said quickly. “Come in.”

Huh. Sort of hard not to get the impression that she was hurrying them in the door so no one saw Loki on the doorstep. To be honest, Stephen didn’t think most people recognized him. There hadn’t been many decent photos taken of him in New York in 2012, and considering these days he dispensed with the Asgardian armor and cape more often than not, that made it harder to recognize him.

As Christine shut the door behind them and locked it, Loki held out the bottle in his hands and said, “It’s not much, but I hope you’ll enjoy this.” Christine looked at him, hesitant to take the bottle, but Loki kept smiling disarmingly. “It’s mead; I’m not sure if you like it? We make our own in New Asgard. I think perhaps this is just me being a bit romantic but I think you can taste the sea. Anyway, it’s just a small token of my appreciation for you having me tonight.”

Stephen looked at him, feeling like he was really seeing the diplomatic Asgardian prince for the first time. Then he looked at Christine, raising his eyebrows, like, _well?_

She smiled, though it was strained. “I think I had mead at a Renaissance fair once. It’s sweet, right? It’s made with honey?”

Loki nodded and smiled delightedly, as though nothing could make him happier than her knowing what mead was. “We keep the hives at this spot below the cliffs where they get the morning and midday sun.”

“New Asgardian mead,” she said a little wonderingly, staring at the unlabeled bottle.

Still smiling, Loki said, “We try to follow the Asgardian method for brewing it as closely as possible but of course, everything we use is from Earth. So I’m afraid the most Asgardian thing about it are the hands that prepared it.” He thought about that. “Unless it was Korg. He’s Kronan. Or Meik—to be honest, we’re not sure what Meik is, but—”

Stephen was watching this, his eyebrows lifting higher with each word. Was Loki _nervous?_

Holding out a hand, he said, “I’m Loki. It’s nice to meet you, Doctor Palmer.”

For a moment, Christine looked at his hand without moving. But when Stephen caught her eye, giving her a meaningful look, she forced an unconvincing smile and shook Loki’s hand. “I know. I’ve heard about you.”

One of his eyebrows arched. “Yes, I suppose you have.”

“Um.” She clutched the bottle to herself, then gestured and said, “Come on up; Paul’s in the kitchen; can I…can I take your jacket?”

“You’re too kind,” Loki said, shrugging it off.

She looked like she didn’t know what to do with it, like she thought it was going to turn into something terrifying. Giving her a look that he hoped conveyed, _it’s just a Gucci suit_ , Stephen said, “Not offering to take mine, huh?”

Christine shot him a flat look. “Look, this isn’t dinner at the Ritz, but I know you, Stephen, and you’re probably wearing something that’s either been splattered with bleach or ripped full of holes.”

“It’s just faded,” Loki said, studying his fingernails, painted black as usual, “but conceptually, you’re not wrong.”

She met his eyes and a conspiratorial look passed between them before she realized what she was doing. Clearing her throat, she turned and hurried up the steps. Loki glanced at Stephen, an unreadable expression in his eyes. A question, for sure, but it was gone too fast for Stephen to decipher it.

The two of them followed Christine up the stairs and into the house. “It smells good,” Loki offered as they stepped into the living room.

She hung his jacket up in a closet in the hallway and said, “Oh, um, thanks. Do you like Persian food? My husband’s Persian. I mean, he’s from Wisconsin, but his parents are from Iran—do—do you know where that is?”

Smiling a little, Loki replied, “Yes. Even before living here, I made a point of knowing a bit about it. Well, all of the Nine Realms, really.”

“Were you planning on trying to conquer the other ones, too?” Christine asked, her back still to him, her voice high.

Loki’s face twitched but otherwise he didn’t have much reaction. “You’re the first to see it like that. My bookishness wasn’t generally regarded as sign of martial ambition.”

Turning around, her face red, she said, “You know what, let me introduce you to Paul. That’s probably what I should do.” She marched past them into the kitchen.

Loki’s eyes flicked towards Stephen’s and he murmured, “You see, Strange? The horns couldn’t have hurt.”

“They could have,” Stephen replied.

There was something in his eyes that might have been hurt, but it slid away with his gaze. They followed Christine into the kitchen, where a man was standing over the stove stirring something. “Hey, Stephen!” he said, grinning as he looked up. Loki was trailing behind him; not that this would do anything to make him unobtrusive, since it was pretty much a guarantee that whatever room Loki was in, he would dominate it, by his height, if nothing else.

“Hey Paul, how’ve you been?” Stephen asked, clapping him on the shoulder.

With a shrug, Paul said, “Eh, you know. Work, mostly. Did Chris tell you, we’re still trying to get that roof thing straightened out?”

Stephen peered into the pot at the fesenjan slowly bubbling away. The whole kitchen smelled like cinnamon and nutmeg. “No. You know I could fix that for you in about two seconds, right?”

Paul opened his mouth to respond, but Christine said, “Except then the city’s going to want proof that we fixed it and everything’s to code now, and unless you’re running a roofing company, Stephen, it’s probably more trouble than it’s worth.”

“I could probably use the extra cash,” he said musingly.

With a laugh, Paul said, “Hey, you know what? If you ever go into magical construction, consider us your first customers. I’m pretty sure the electrical in this place is pretty jacked up too.”

“Yeah, I only do exterior work,” Stephen said, a smile twitching at his mouth.

Paul laughed again, then he said, “So, I hear your bachelor days are over.”

_Your bachelor days are over._ The Stephen Strange of old would have balked at that. They’d only been together a month and a half. How the hell did he know if his bachelor days were over? But, taking a step to the side, he put a hand lightly on Loki’s back and said, “Yeah. This is Loki.”

Paul smiled and extended a hand, then looked at it and exclaimed, “Oh! Shit, sorry, hold that thought.” As he turned and went to the sink to wash his hands, Stephen caught sight of something bright red smeared all over them.

“Pomegranate molasses,” Christine explained. “Which is also all over the stove and wall, so don’t look too closely.”

“I’d be the last person to criticize someone else’s kitchen. I haven’t cooked in at least ten years,” Stephen said.

“Oh, did you cook before that?” Christine asked, smirking.

After he’d dried his hands, Paul came back and held one out again. “Okay, kids, simmer down. Anyway, hi,” he said, smiling at Loki. “I’m Paul.”

Loki shook his hand, smiling a bit wryly. “Like Stephen said, Loki. Though I imagine my reputation precedes me.”

Releasing Loki’s hand, Paul held his up. “Politics, as far as I’m concerned. Anyone who Stephen brings over is alright in my book.”

“You can also just compliment his cooking,” Stephen said, glancing at Loki and smiling slightly. What he wanted to do was take his hand and hope that would convey the message that they were in this together. But he knew Loki wouldn’t appreciate it.

With another laugh, Paul said, “Yeah, true. I’m a simple man.”

Loki tilted his head. “May I ask what pomegranate molasses is? It sounds…”

“Like _not_ something you want to eat in a stew? Yeah, that was pretty much the reaction I always got back in Wisconsin. It’s just pomegranate juice boiled down into a syrup.” He pointed to a pot on the stove. “And this is pretty special tonight, because I actually made my own. Anyway.” Poking at the stew again, he lowered the heat on the burner and covered it. “That has to cook a little longer. Can we get either of you something to drink?”

Holding out the bottle of mead, Christine said, “Loki brought this from New Asgard.”

“Oh, cool, is this mead?” Paul asked excitedly.

Christine laughed. “You’re such a dork.”

But Loki looked pleased, and that made Stephen’s heart swell. Jesus. Not like it was news, but he had it really bad.

Paul wanted to save the mead for another time and Loki chuckled and said it was fine with him; he drank enough of it at home, anyway. It was funny, because Stephen could remember a time when Loki had fought tooth and nail _not_ to consider anywhere on Earth, especially New Asgard, home. And now he said it so casually, as though it was the most natural thing in the world that a group of aliens/Norse gods were making lives for themselves on the Norwegian coast.

The four of them went into the living room, where Loki was immediately drawn to the bookshelf. Tilting his head and scanning the books’ spines, he commented, “Someone likes poetry.”

“Guilty,” Paul said. “That’s the useless English BA in me.”

With a slight smile, Loki asked, “That’s some sort of degree, yes? What makes it useless?”

“The fact that it was the most popular major awarded at my alma mater,” Paul laughed.

“Mm.” Loki straightened up. “I know Doctor Palmer is an esteemed surgeon, but what do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”

At the flattery, Christine couldn’t help but smile, even though she didn’t look happy about it. That was the thing with Loki, though—when he turned the charm on, he _really_ turned the charm on.

Sitting down and gesturing for both Stephen and Loki to do so as well, Paul said, “Graphic design. I used to work for the New Yorker but I went freelance about ten years ago.”

“You’d been talking about it since we met, though,” Christine said, perching on the arm of the chair Paul was sitting in. It was clear that she wanted as much distance between herself and Loki as possible. Loki, of course, had situated himself in his own chair, rather than on the sofa next to Stephen, so no one could get close to him. Typical.

With a shrug, Paul said, “Yeah, after the Snap…it was like, you just never know, do you? The plane could crash, you could get sick, an alien could come to Earth and wipe out half the population.”

To his credit, Loki had almost no reaction to this. It was only because Stephen knew him as well as he did that he caught the way Loki’s fingers curled and how he hooked his thumb over a finger and tightened his grip. “Yes, I can see how that would make one…take stock.”

It had changed all of them, in ways large and small. For both Loki and him, the changes had been profound. They had both given up Infinity Stones to save another. They had both died. They had both been brought back. It had shifted both of their perspectives and Stephen had understood much earlier than Loki how much it had brought them into alignment.

Tilting his head, Loki said, “Forgive me, I still haven’t learned everything about Earth. What does one do who’s involved in graphic design?”

“Oh, no, you’re fine,” Paul said. “What I do is a lot of visual composition for digital publications.” When Loki’s look continued to be blank, Paul added, “Like when there are illustrations at the tops of articles. That kind of stuff.”

“Oh!” Loki brightened. “Yes, I know what you mean. I’m sorry, sometimes I don’t know if my Allspeak is failing me or if I simply don’t understand a phrase.”

“Allspeak?” Paul asked.

Stephen glanced at Loki. “Like a universal translator from Star Trek.”

“It is _not_ like a universal translator,” Loki said, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, yeah, you’re right. It’s not a cochlear implant, it’s magic.”

Loki smirked at him.

Christine folded her arms over her chest. “You mean you’re not actually speaking English right now?”

“No, I am. Well, most of the time.” Loki wiggled a hand from side to side. “I learned quite a bit when I was…staying with Stephen a number of years ago.”

Christine’s eyes widened. “When you were…sorry, staying with Stephen? Like, at his magical house in the Village?”

Ha, right. Christine had no idea of the history between Loki and him—because almost no one did. Because Stephen had talked Kamar-Taj into keeping Loki’s presence a secret. Everything had been rainbows and unicorns on the surface after the Snap had been undone, but Stephen was cynical enough—and observant enough—to note dark undercurrents in some of the political rhetoric at the time. With everyone back, with the crisis undone (it wasn’t, but it had felt that way at first), there’d been a movement to look around for someone to punish. Loki could easily have served that purpose.

Not only that, but when he’d used the Time Stone to peer into the future, he’d seen things, and that included both Thor and Loki sorting through some shit without the other. That had meant Loki living at the Sanctum for what had turned into months. It had been complicated. Stephen had doubted every day that he was doing the right thing—for the universe, for Earth, for himself, for Loki, for Thor, too. At first he hadn’t even cared about doing the right thing for Loki—even knowing what had happened on _The Statesman_ , he was still _Loki_. But, well, things changed.

Glancing at Stephen, Loki said, “Yes. For a time.”

She gave Stephen a pointed look. “I never knew that.”

Stephen leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. Loki watched him do it, a spark of unmistakable desire in his eyes. Another shot to the ego. Well, Loki had agreed to come tonight—and to not wear the horns—and Stephen would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to showing his appreciation in a very physical way later.

But the thought of that was distracting, so instead he looked at Christine, who wasn’t _quite_ glaring at him, but close. “Cult business, Christine. You know how it is.”

“I don’t, actually.”

“Oh. Right, I guess because cult business is secret.” He flashed a smile at her and she rolled her eyes, but smiled back.

“So—” Paul looked thoughtful. “I hope I’m not being rude or anything, but what’s it…like? Being an alien and living on Earth?”

With a slight smile, Loki asked, “Have you ever been to Norway?”

“Nope. Denmark once.”

Loki gave a rolling shrug. His grace was hypnotic. “Living on Earth depends on where you live. New Asgard is a village, very much like any other village on Earth, I would think. If you stumbled upon the place and didn’t know what it was, I’m not sure there’s anything to give it away. I mean, unless you happened to see my brother while you were there. He’s…” Loki rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Unmistakable.”

“I mean yeah. Everyone loves Thor,” Paul said.

At this, Loki’s face twitched. It was funny, but for all that Loki had been driven by jealousy and strife with Thor for a certain period of his life, Stephen had never known him to be anything than utterly devoted to his brother. Though, he _did_ still like to pretend that he wasn’t. It was hard to imagine he was fooling anyone.

Christine was watching Loki beadily. He caught her eye and smiled a little—hesitantly, almost shyly—before replying to Paul, “Yes, Thor makes it easy to love him.”

“After you attacked New York, it got out that all the intelligence agencies thought you were doing it to kill him,” Christine said.

Jesus. Stephen curled his fingers into fists and drew in a breath. What had he expected? Christine had talked to him, back when they were dating, about how that day in the ER, treating casualties of the Battle of New York, had led to her deciding to remain an ER doctor. Prior to that, she’d been entertaining the idea of going into private practice, elective surgeries. But then, Loki had descended on them. If she knew what Loki had been through, that might help. She’d probably see him as a charity case, something to fix. At least, she might have a little more sympathy. But of course, Loki would never tell her. It had taken years and years for Loki to tell _him_. And Stephen knew there was more, much more, that he was still tight-lipped about.

“Chris, come on,” Paul said quietly. She ignored him and kept staring at Loki.

Loki opened his mouth, then closed it, letting out a quiet huff of air. “Do you have siblings, Doctor Palmer?” he asked.

“I have two brothers,” she said, her tone still hard.

Loki nodded. “I can’t pretend that…the damage I caused here, that the lives that were lost—”

“That you took,” she interrupted.

He was still, but then, he nodded. “Yes. The lives that I took. That can never be undone. There’s nothing I can say or do that will erase it. All I can say is that on Asgard, we weren’t always…encouraged…to see the less—er, the other Realms, as equal to our own.” Holding up a hand to forestall an interruption, which Stephen could see was forming, he added, “I don’t mean to defend or excuse. I’m only telling you the truth of the matter. In that situation, when two princes are raised to see the other Realms as…unequal to their own, a fight between two siblings can quickly…escalate. You have brothers; you must understand what it’s like to want to kill them, even if you don’t actually want them dead.”

For a moment, Christine didn’t say anything. There was a look on her face that Stephen recognized, though. To be honest, it was hard to blame her. Nothing that Loki said was going to convince her that this made sense. Two space Viking brothers had a fight and Earth was the battleground that they didn’t care about. Not much to sympathize with, there.

And Loki clearly realized it. He pressed his lips together and blew another breath of air through his nose, looking frustrated—not with her, particularly, or even the situation, but with himself and what he’d done. And maybe the fact that in the past, he probably would have just run from it. But he couldn’t, now.

Loki glanced at Stephen. Or, well, he _could_ run. But he wouldn’t.

Stephen opened his mouth to put a stop to this, which couldn’t go anywhere productive, but Loki held up a finger. _I fight my own battles_ , he may as well have said. It was flashing in his eyes. No need to say the words out loud.

“Are you really saying that _sibling rivalry_ made you attack New York?” Christine demanded. Paul looked uncomfortable.

Wetting his lips, Loki’s fingers fidgeted and he replied, “It was more…general family drama.”

“That’s disgusting,” she snapped.

The tension in the room felt tight enough to physically break something. It was taking every bit of Stephen’s willpower not to speak up. But this was an inflection point. And Loki wouldn’t thank him for butting in.

Meeting Christine’s eyes, Loki said bluntly, “I agree. I’m not proud of it, Doctor Palmer. I’ve made mistakes, rather more than most people and on a rather larger scale. I can’t change it.” He glanced at Stephen. “I can only move forward and try to be better.”

This made Stephen want to climb into that chair with him and kiss him hard, to smooth the sadness and the doubt away from his eyes and assure him that he was, he _was_ moving forward. But he sat still, watching.

The anger didn’t really leave Christine’s face, but she hesitated before speaking again. There wasn’t much she could say to that. This subject was an emotional one, but she would see that she’d been pretty neatly outmaneuvered, here. Not that Stephen thought Loki was lying. But he also knew that Loki was well aware of the right thing to say.

Finally, she said, “What made you change?”

Loki blinked. His brow furrowed just a little and trepidation flickered through his eyes. “I’m sorry?”

She gestured. “What’s different? What happened to make you decide you wanted to be better?”

His fingers twisted together. Stephen could see two warring desires on his face: the urge to deflect this question and the urge to lash out. But then Loki looked towards him, meeting his eyes. He stared at Stephen unblinkingly, and then he looked back to Christine. “I lost everything that mattered,” he said. “And I realized how much it mattered to me once it was gone. When I would have burned everything down in rage and grief, there were people who…held me down. Who kept me tethered to my place in the world. Who showed me I had one, though I very much felt I didn’t. They helped me.” He paused. “I do what I can to repay that.”

“Who are they?” Christine pressed.

Before Stephen could cut in—and he was going to, because he got that she was mad, but this was too much; Loki shouldn’t have needed to bare his soul just to have dinner—Loki replied, “My brother. My sister-in-law, Jane.” Then, he stopped, smiling slightly, and shot a look at Stephen. It was a look so full of adoration that it knocked the wind out of him for a second. No one had ever looked at him like that except Loki. The fact that it _was_ Loki looking at him that way was…amazing. Incredible. In some ways, the most incredible thing he’d ever seen—and he’d seen a lot of things.

Loki held his gaze for a moment longer, then looked back to Christine and finished, “And that man, there.” His brow furrowing, he went on, “I’m not, nor have I ever been, an easy person to have in one’s life. I don’t lack so much self-awareness that I can’t see that. In a perfect world, you would never have to come into contact with me at all—but you’re Stephen’s friend, and he cares about you very much. I understand that it’s too much to hope for your friendship, but I would like it if we could be on civil, if not friendly, terms.” He looked at Stephen, his fingers still twisting, unmistakable anxiety in his eyes.

Paul cleared his throat and mumbled something about checking on dinner as he got up from his chair. Stephen half expected Christine to follow him. But she remained where she was, staring at Loki. “Why does that matter to you?” she asked.

With a wistful smile, Loki said, “Because I love him.”

She blinked, the anger abruptly evaporating from her face. “You…want me to like you…because I’m Stephen’s friend…and you love him.”

“Yes.”

Stephen realized he was holding his breath, but he was afraid if he breathed too loudly, he would shatter whatever was happening here.

Her mouth opened, then closed, and then she narrowed her eyes, as though this was some kind of trick. “You’re an alien. And really, really old. And you tried to take over Earth.”

Looking mildly disgruntled, Loki said, “I’m one thousand and fifty-nine. I’m only old by your standards.”

She actually laughed. Then, looking horrified, she clapped a hand over her mouth. Loki didn’t react. His shoulders stayed tensed. Taking a breath, Christine said, “Um, you just don’t seem like someone who would care about something so…” She searched for the word, then settled on, “Normal.”

Loki blew air out his nose and the corner of his mouth lifted in a mirthless smile. “I’m not human, but I’m still a person. Most of the time, I’m disappointingly normal.”

Well, Stephen disagreed with that. There was nothing ordinary about Loki, but he understood the point he was trying to make.

Slowly, Christine sat in the chair that Paul had vacated. She tapped a finger on her knee, then said, “So you’re not dating him as part of some evil plot?”

Loki laughed. “I’m not. To be perfectly honest, if I were going to seduce a human for some nefarious purpose, I would have chosen one who’s more well-connected than Stephen.”

That made her snort. Oh, great. Perfect. They were going to bond over mocking him. He guessed he shouldn’t be surprised. Her expression growing more serious, she sighed and said, “So you’re pretty much guilting me into being nice to you.”

With a smile, just a bit hesitant, Loki said, “I’m not above it.”

She stared at him, then put the heel of her hand to her forehead and said, “Alright. Civility. We can try it.” Her eyes moved to Stephen and she added, “Anyway, Mr. Cult over there is clearly pretty smitten with you.”

At this, Loki absolutely lit up, if only for a second before he got it under control. Whether it was at the fact that Christine had relented a little or that she’d called Stephen out on his obvious googly-eyed gazing was unclear. Inclining his head, Loki said, “I appreciate it.”

She shrugged, looking awkward, like she now regretted the fact that she’d been so openly hostile. Just then, Paul popped his head in and said, “Are you guys ready to eat?”

There were various noises of agreement as they decamped to the dining room. It turned out, Loki _did_ like fesenjan, and he praised it effusively. At some point, Stephen would have to ask him about some of the diplomatic missions he’d been on over the course of his long life. Clearly, he was good at it.

After they ate, they sat around the table talking for another few hours. Loki seemed content mostly to listen, taking in everything and storing it away for later. So much of their time was spent alone, just the two of them, that it was easy to forget that in larger groups, Loki could come off as almost shy. It wasn’t shyness, Stephen knew, but rather a natural tendency to observe.

At one point, Stephen absently slid a hand over to Loki’s leg, resting it on his thigh. After having no reaction for a second, Loki brushed his fingertips lightly against Stephen’s. Even that amount of physical contact made Stephen’s nerves tingle. Mr. Cult was pretty smitten, alright.

Once it got late and Stephen said they’d better be going, Christine and Paul walked them to the door. There was a round of good-byes and thank yous—Loki was, somehow, even more gracious—and then the two of them stepped outside.

Before they’d gotten more than a few steps away from the front stoop, the door opened again behind them and Christine’s voice said, “Wait a second.” They stopped and she came down the stairs, looking between the two of them.

There was a long silence. It seemed, for a minute, that she might decide against saying whatever she’d come out to say. Then, she sighed and met Loki’s eyes. “I just want Stephen to be happy,” she said. “Half the time he shows up here and he looks like he’s just been in a bar fight or worse, or like he hasn’t slept in weeks, and I just…I worry about him.”

Ever the ER doctor, Christine. Stephen thought about reassuring her that he was fine, honestly, he’d died more times than he could count and it wasn’t so bad. Well, actually, it had been pretty bad, but…maybe he just wouldn’t say anything.

Loki hesitated, then said, “We’re united in both of those things.”

With a brisk nod, she said, “Well…okay.” Then, she looked at Stephen, reached out, and squeezed his arm. “That’s the important thing, I guess.”

She didn’t wait for a response, instead turning and jogging back up the steps. But she waved to them before she shut the door. Stephen smiled and waved back.

Before he opened a portal to go home, Stephen looked at Loki, raising an eyebrow. “So. I’m not well connected enough for you, huh?”

A smile twitched at Loki’s mouth. “Well, I had a list going of possible humans to seduce for my planned world domination. World leaders, powerful ministers, heirs to the throne, but…” He sighed with feigned regret. “In the end, I couldn’t stop thinking about your cheekbones.”

“Oh, okay, got it,” Stephen said. “So your takeover fell apart because I’m too hot, is that what you’re saying?”

With a shrug, Loki replied, “We all have our downfalls, Stephen. Mine happen to include blue eyes, well-groomed beards, and amazing cheekbones. Plus.” His smile twitched wider. “Now I know what your arse looks like. There’s really no going back.”

Stephen laughed and pulled his sling ring out, slipping it on. The look on Loki’s face was charmingly sly. “Anyway,” he said,“I think dinner went pretty well.”

The smile fell from Loki’s face and his shoulders stiffened. “Your view of ‘pretty well’ is obviously very different than mine.”

“Come on,” Stephen said. “You charmed her. It wasn’t like you were going to be best friends after one dinner.”

“No, I know that,” Loki said. He looked away, staring towards the Manhattan skyline.

“Then what’s wrong?”

Loki’s fingers were fidgeting, twisting around each other as he held them just below chest level. It took him a minute to speak. “I’ve been reading about human relationships and courtship,” he said in a tone that was both deeply embarrassed and deeply…sad? He didn’t seem able to meet Stephen’s eyes. “And there’s much written about…not devaluing one’s friendships in favor of a romantic partner. Especially not one you’ve only been seeing for seven weeks.”

Stephen stared at him. “Have you been reading Men’s Health? Or Cosmo or something?”

“It was a Reddit thread,” Loki mumbled.

It was the kind of thing that was really, _really_ hard not to laugh at, one incongruous statement after another, culminating in…what? “Loki,” Stephen said. “This isn’t exactly a bros before hos situation.”

“Well, no, I thought it might be sisters before misters,” Loki replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes that sat comfortably beside the sadness and fear in his gaze.

Wanting nothing more than to take his hand, Stephen said, “Odinson, if she didn’t like you, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. I’d just have dinner with them on a night I wasn’t seeing you. It’s not like you’re spending most of your time at the Sanctum.” This fact wasn’t ideal, but it was the way things were. “It wouldn’t be hard to schedule around you being here.”

“Wouldn’t that bother you?” Loki asked. “You already compartmentalize your life. Why would you want to do so further, because of _me_ , of all people?”

There was a silence. A group walked by them on the sidewalk, singing an off key, drunken rendition of “Love Me Like You Do.” God, Stephen hadn’t thought about that song in forever. Loki watched the group, his eyes narrowed, but refrained from commenting, either on their pitchiness or their level of inebriation. Or maybe he was feeling jumpy about being recognized, even though he rarely was, not outside Norway.

How was he supposed to respond to this? Stephen was a pro at compartmentalizing his life. If he wasn’t, he’d never sleep, because he’d never be able to put some of the nightmarish shit he’d seen and experienced out of his head. But somehow it didn’t seem like the right move to reassure Loki that if he had to compartmentalize even more, it didn’t bother him. Honestly, he _would_ like it if Loki and Christine could be friends. Along with Loki, Wong, and several (but certainly not all) of the Avengers, she was one of the most important people in his life.

Dammit. He wished he was better at this.

Well, when in doubt, maybe it was better to be honest.

Stephen breathed out slowly. “You have no idea how much I love you, do you?”

“How can I when I don’t understand why you do in the first place?” Loki asked.

Stephen stared at him. This was one of the least surprising things he’d ever heard Loki say, but still. Circling an arm, he opened a portal, grabbed Loki’s hand, and pulled him through.

They stepped out onto a deserted beach. The sky above their heads was a massive dome of purple, indigo, and streaks of red, pink, and orange. Two massive planets hung there, so close that bands of swirling clouds were visible in their atmospheres. The first few evening stars were beginning to shine, twinkling through the heavy humidity in the air.

Water lapped at a shoreline of pink and black sand, the surface of the lagoon as still as a mirror. The sky reflected on it, making this strip of sand look like a bridge into infinity.

Loki’s eyes took in this vista, and then he looked down and lifted his foot off the sand. “This will get everywhere,” he sighed. “And this humidity will do my hair no favors.”

Ignoring this, Stephen wrapped his arms around Loki’s back and pulled him close. “I know you hate PDA so I brought us somewhere that’s definitely not public.”

“I also hate the acronym ‘PDA,’” Loki said. “Where are we?”

“It doesn’t have a name,” Stephen said. When Loki raised an eyebrow, he said, “Really. I found it by accident once when I was trying to escape a horde of Vampa-Cabra warriors. I don’t even know what this dimension is called.”

Loki snorted and turned his head, his eyes flicking around as he studied their surroundings further. “It’s pretty,” he said. “But if you wanted to go somewhere private, the Sanctum would have been suitable.”

Raising a hand to Loki’s face, Stephen turned it gently until Loki was looking at him again. “I wanted to show you something you haven’t seen. Something beautiful.”

“It’s very beautiful,” Loki said, almost dutifully.

“Loki.”

Loki looked down, hooking his fingers into the belt of Stephen’s jeans and fidgeting with it. “Yes?”

Stephen ran his fingers through Loki’s hair, tucking it behind his ear. “What do you think I’m going to do?”

Without hesitating, Loki replied, “Realize you’ve made a terrible mistake. Finally come to understand that you can’t live the same life you were living if I’m in it. Accept that I’ll always be suspect, that even your friends will wonder if I’ve ensnared you by underhanded means to further some kind of plot.” He drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “I think you’re going to leave me, Stephen, which would be the smart thing to do. Honestly, it would be hard to blame you.”

Stephen’s heart did something spasmodic in his chest. Premature ventricular contraction, if he was self-diagnosing. “Odinson,” he said helplessly, then leaned in and kissed him. Loki’s mouth opened to his like it always had, as with a helpless noise, Loki kissed him back desperately. His fingers scrabbled from Stephen’s belt, up along his ribs and chest, until he could hook them around his neck and pull Stephen closer.

The tremor in Stephen’s hands was worse, because it always got worse when he got emotional, and Loki thinking this—Loki convincing himself of this—never failed to make him emotional. Again, he found himself asking, what was he supposed to do? They’d been dating seven weeks. You didn’t make promises after seven weeks, no matter how much Stephen wanted to.

But seven weeks, seven months, seven years, decades, centuries…it wouldn’t matter. His promise to Loki would always be the same.

“Just trust me,” he said as they kissed.

Loki laughed into his mouth and Stephen could hear both the bitterness and the happiness in it, butting up against each other. “I do,” Loki replied. One of his hands ran up Stephen’s neck and into his hair, and he added, “Do you think I’d allow just anyone to portal me to an unnamed alien planet?”

“Hey.” Stephen pulled away to look into his eyes, ignoring Loki’s affronted sound. His vulnerability—or rather, his ability to show it—was fleeting, but sometimes it was worth pursuing. “I mean it. Trust me. I love you. And nothing’s ever going to change that.”

Okay, that probably qualified as a promise. But he really meant it. And he wanted Loki to hear it.

Loki’s fingers curled in his hair as he stared at Stephen. “You have no idea how much I want to believe that’s true,” he finally said.

Smiling a little, Stephen said, “Look, if people think that you put me under a love spell or something, I’d be insulted, just because I’m pretty sure I could break something like that.” When Loki rolled his eyes, Stephen pulled him closer, until their noses were touching and he could feel Loki’s breath on his lips. “If they say it, I don’t care. I waited almost ten years for you.”

With a snort, Loki asked, “It’s difficult to imagine it was worth it.”

“Yeah, well, I bet you can do it. Your imagination is pretty good.”

Loki smiled and leaned his forehead against Stephen’s. “You have some kind of power over me, Strange, and I haven’t quite decided if I like it.”

“Yeah?” he asked. “What’s that?”

“Your powers of persuasion are second to none. When you say something…” He paused to kiss Stephen softly. “When you say something, I’m very inclined to believe it.”

Smiling, Stephen said, “So what you’re saying is _I_ put a spell on _you_.” He hummedthe opening bars of the relevant song and captured Loki’s right hand in his, extending it as though he meant to dance.

“Because I’m yours?” Loki asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Stephen pulled him closer, till they were chest to chest. “You know the song?”

“Perhaps I’ve heard it,” Loki said. “I’m sure you can give me all the trivial details about its recording.”

“Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, November 1956,” Stephen obliged. “It got banned for being too ‘cannibalistic.’ Fun fact, it was originally recorded as a ballad in 1955.”

“Has anyone ever told you your fun facts aren’t really all that fun?”

“Want me to stop sharing them?”

Loki thought about it. “No.” Then, a sharp smile flickered across his face. “You’re insufferable and it’s one of the things I love most about you.”

Stephen chuckled. “You say the nicest things, darling.”

“You didn’t choose to be with me because of the things I say.” This was delivered in a much more sober tone. “How does the song go? ‘I can’t stand it ‘cause you put me down?’ Two strikes, if I may use an Earth metaphor.”

Smiling, Stephen said, “You may, but I know you’ve never been to a baseball game in your life.” When Loki shrugged, Stephen breathed out slowly, reluctantly releasing Loki from his embrace—but only so he could turn him around to look at the stars beginning to sparkle across the darkening sky. They reflected on the glassy water. The pink in the sand took on the same tone as the sky, so it looked like they were floating on blackness, surrounded by stars.

“Do you ever see something so beautiful that you don’t know how to take it in?” Stephen asked. Loki glanced at him, an eyebrow arched. “There’s no way to see it or hear it in the way you know it deserves to be seen or heard, so you just have to try to feel it. And you know how it feels, even if it that doesn’t make any sense. A place, or a piece of art, the color of a flower or a song or just the way a cello string vibrates on a single note. There’s magic to it and all you can do is feel it somewhere inside of you. But you know there’s so much more to it that you’ll never be able to reach, something totally beyond you, beyond the scope of your existence.”

Loki didn’t respond, but he’d turned so that he was facing Stephen again, still and waiting. Gesturing, Stephen said, “That’s how I feel about this place. But.” Brushing his fingers over Loki’s face, he said quietly, “It’s nothing compared to how I feel when I look at you.”

Loki’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Doctor, wizard, _and_ poet.”

“Yeah, my Ph.D advisor would be proud.” Taking Loki’s hands in his, Stephen said, “Trust me. Trust this. Trust _us._ We both waited a long time for this. And you know what, Odinson? I’m really stubborn. When I work this hard for something, I don’t let it go.”

Loki ran his thumbs over the backs of Stephen’s hands, looking down at them. He traced one of the pin-straight scars that that ran from Stephen’s wrist to his fingertips, then looked at the black, star-strewn lagoon. “Trust,” he said, “does not come easily to me. Everything beautiful that’s ever come into my life…” He smiled mirthlessly, his gaze faraway. “I’ve found a way to destroy it. Or at least, I’ve tried my damnedest to.”

“I don’t care,” Stephen said. At this, Loki turned his head, his eyes wide and his brows drawn together. “I don’t care what you did before, I don’t care if you fucked up. You _know_ what I see when I look at you, Loki.”

With a tiny smile, Loki replied, “An insanely good-looking, dispossessed prince?”

Stephen chuckled. “I mean, that too.” Squeezing Loki’s hands, he said, “I see a god—a man, or a woman, or whatever you want to be—doing his best. I’ve known you for a long time. Maybe I didn’t see you at your lowest, but you have to admit, I’ve seen you in a pretty bad place. And all you’ve ever done, over and over, is try to be who you think you can be, even when everything in the universe is telling you that you can’t.” A smile flashed across his face. “Do you know how sexy that is?”

Snorting, Loki said, “You know, I was about to say you owe that to my brother, but that would rather ruin the mood.”

There was nothing to do but laugh. “A little. But—sorry, that’s not true. You—and I, I guess—owe it to you. You have this bad habit of taking responsibility for all your flaws and mistakes, but no credit for everything good you do. Ever notice that?”

Loki stared at him. Then, slowly, he said, “It’s occurred to me.”

As Loki’s fingers continued moving on his hand, Stephen said, “Everything you told Christine was true, even if you were only saying it because you knew it was the right thing to say.”

Pressing his lips together, Loki said, “I thought it was an impressive performance.”

It was tempting to inform him that he knew it hadn’t been a performance at all, but—well, Loki didn’t like to drop his armor. If it made him feel better to imagine that he’d put on an act to convince Christine of his sincerity, it wasn’t hurting anyone.

Starlight and planetlight were reflecting in Loki’s eyes, giving them depth beyond even what they usually had. His hair seemed to shine. Realistically, he just had a good conditioner. But deep, deep down, Stephen was kind of a romantic, so he’d attribute it to the star strewn sky, the milky light glowing off the pink and red planets overhead. Loki was so gorgeous. Sometimes it made every nerve in Stephen’s body burn; made everything light up inside him.

Unable to stop himself, he leaned down to kiss Loki’s neck. Loki’s long, cold fingers cradled his head. “Bottom line,” Stephen said into Loki’s skin, “I want you. No matter what anyone else says or thinks, I want you.”

Loki breathed out slowly, a soft sigh of—maybe acceptance. Stephen thought he felt it in the way the muscles in Loki’s neck loosened and the way he turned his head, leaning his face against Stephen’s. “Alright,” he said. “I believe you.” With a quiet snort, he added, “For now.”

Well, it might have to be good enough. Loki wrapped his arms around Stephen tightly and held him as Stephen kept kissing his neck, which turned to licking and sucking. Which made Loki sigh in something that was most definitely _not_ acceptance, considering the way it turned into a moan at the end.

“Stephen,” he said.

“Mm?”

“This very beautiful place you’ve brought me to—it’s not that I don’t like it.”

“But?” Stephen asked, the word muffled by the fact that his mouth was pressed to Loki’s collarbone.

“But sand will get everywhere and that’s less than ideal.”

Stephen laughed. “That’s a delicate way of saying you want to jump my bones.”

One of Loki’s hands crept down until it slid over Stephen’s ass. “My words may be delicate,” he said slyly. “But I’m certainly not.” The grip of his hand punctuated this point. “You _do_ owe me, Stephen. You said so yourself.”

“Yeah,” Stephen murmured as his hands found their way under Loki’s clothes. “I did, didn’t?” It seemed a waste to not take advantage of a private lagoon on a gorgeous alien planet; Loki naked and swimming would be a sight to behold. But this place would still be here, and anyway, he’d promised. Not like it was much of a hardship to keep this particular promise.

He lifted his head and immediately, Loki’s mouth was on his, desperate, demanding, everything that he wouldn’t say out loud in his kiss. It was the reason Stephen never worried about the depth of Loki’s feelings, despite his propensity for sarcasm and snideness; it was the reason, actually, that he’d always known that somehow, some way, the two of them would end up together. Loki didn’t often verbalize his love, but if you knew how to read it, if you could see it in the way he looked at you, or the way his fingers grazed over your arm when he normally avoided all physical contact; if you paid attention to the way he inched closer and watched you move, then you didn’t need to hear it.

At least, Stephen didn’t need to hear it. But Loki did. It was one of the ways they were different. And that was fine—he would tell Loki how much he loved him in every way he knew how for the rest of his life.

They stood there kissing hungrily, fingers loosening buttons and belts, knuckles and palms on bare skin, clothes hitched either higher or pushed lower, until Stephen murmured into Loki’s mouth, “If you want to avoid sand getting everywhere, your—mmph—window for insisting we leave is quickly closing.”

Loki let out a tiny, helpless moan, and Stephen filed that away. They hadn’t been sleeping together long—and the fact that it was a long distance relationship meant they definitely hadn’t been doing so nearly as much as he wanted to—but he’d kind of gotten the idea that Loki liked being told what to do. But he was right about the sand. Sex on the beach was hot in theory, not so much in practice.

It was hard not to laugh at that. Who would have thought that practicalities would have any place when you were dating a god?

Without breaking their kiss, Stephen spun a hand and opened a portal straight to his bedroom at the Sanctum. Before they stepped through—or fell through, as the case may have been, since the way Loki was pulling at him was likely to end up with him bodily hauled through the portal into bed—Stephen said again, “I love you.”

And Loki paused; pulled back. Just a little, just enough so that Stephen could see his eyes, crystal clear blue, open, stripped of the walls he was so fond of. Brushing his fingers across Stephen’s face, he said, “I will never take that fact, or you, for granted. I’ll never understand it, either, but perhaps that’s the point.”

Then, his hand slipped down, ghosting over Stephen’s heart, then lower, until he had entirely disregarded whatever barrier Stephen’s pants and underwear had presented. Not that Stephen had any complaints. He was ready for any and all barriers to be removed.

Huh. That sounded like a metaphor. As Loki gave him a smile, sharp and sparking with desire, he supposed it probably was. Then again—

They tumbled through the portal into bed. There was no need for metaphor when it came to what was between them. Stephen’s heart and feelings were bared, open, ready. Later, he’d tell Loki there was nothing to understand, that it simply _was_.

For now, he’d say it in another way.


End file.
